


Life is Not A Video Game

by popkin16



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Pre-Slash, SGA Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2013, Swordfighting, Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/pseuds/popkin16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Welcome!" The man said, spreading his hands wide. He had a kind face, with a friendly smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners. He had a slender form draped in light blues and grays. Everything about him just screamed 'Ancient' to Rodney. "You have started a new game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life is Not A Video Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anuminis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anuminis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Art: Cloak&Dagger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/857198) by [anuminis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anuminis/pseuds/anuminis). 



> This fic is about 90% complete; I decided to post what I have despite this. I tend to mess with my work even after it's been beta'd, so any mistakes are mine (and will be fixed eventually). Big thanks to Robin for the beta and to all my friends for listening to me these past few months.

The first year, they had been completely focused on survival. Make allies, trade for food, find a ZPM - all very important things that took up all their focus. They had spared little time for exploration of Atlantis itself, beyond what was immediately necessary. The most exploration they had done past the secure perimeter was structural inspections after the storm, which led to the exposure of the nanovirus. Even then, that was less exploration and more  necessary duty. They hadn't stopped to check out the labs they were passing; they were merely looking for weaknesses in Atlantis' support beams.  
  
There would always be a focus on survival as long as the Wraith were around. But with the Daedalus making regular appearances, there was less pressure to trade for food, and having steady contact with Earth provided a source of comfort.  
  
Which meant Elizabeth was willing to let the team explore Atlantis, as long as they treated it as a proper mission: bring emergency rations, stay in radio contact, take necessary precautions, and be appropriately armed. Rodney wanted to believe this would be a light mission, but this was Atlantis, which housed nanoviruses - anything could happen. Rodney wanted to believe things would go smoothly, but how likely was that, given their luck?  
  
Not very likely, as it turned out.

* * *

 

The team didn't have the time to go traipsing deep into Atlantis. The section they had gone through had been pretty well cleared out. Rodney had buried himself into the database of the first lab they had come across that did not seem stripped completely bare and refused to leave until he had gone through - and downloaded - everything inside. Ronon was looking progressively more likely to shoot something to relieve the boredom, and Sheppard spared a moment of regret for not insisting Ronon bring his book along. Sheppard's still not sure how it happened, but Ronon had convinced some of the linguists to teach him how to read English. Ronon was a fast learner and made good use of Atlantis' small paperback library. However, not even his apparent love of reading could make Ronon any more comfortable with the delicate tablets Atlantis personnel used, so ebooks were right out. Ronon was single-handedly causing the paperback library to grow.  
  
"Colonel, I need you to activate this," Rodney said, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him over to a corner of the room. Sheppard went willingly enough, grateful to leave distracting Ronon to the more capable Teyla. He mouthed 'thank you' at her, and she smiled in return, looking amused. She stepped close to Ronon, one hand on her arm, and he leaned down to better hear what she was saying.  
  
"This, right here," Rodney said, pointing. "Try not to activate anything else, hmm?"  
  
"Right," Sheppard said, and reached out to touch the small, domed thing attached to the top of the console. Next to the dome was what looked like a retractable panel, though it showed no signs of budging. He thought "on", but nothing lit up and the panel didn't move. There was, however, a low hum, more felt than heard. Satisfied, Sheppard stepped back from the console to make room for an eager McKay, and was turning to wander back toward Ronon and Teyla when he felt something.  
  
Ancient tech was always pleased to do what Sheppard wanted. He didn't like applying emotions to technology, even stuff created by aliens, but it was hard to deny when it was so clearly felt. Some of the tech was more than pleased to be activated, it pretty much demanded it, and those were the pieces Sheppard was careful around. He didn't like being pushed, and the insistent pressure these devices put toward Sheppard made him uneasy. The Ancients never labeled things, and in the abandoned sections, they'd already run into dangerous things just left lying around - the nanovirus and the creature that Rodney had walked into wearing nothing but the personal shield were two examples. Who knew what Sheppard could accidently cause by giving in? He'd rather not find out, preferring to activate researched devices instead.  
  
"McKay," Sheppard said, turning abruptly back to Rodney. Ronon and Teyla were at his side instantly, possibly due to his tone, but Rodney was too into what he was doing to notice. Sheppard paused; as much as he'd prefer to put himself far away from the temptation of pushy devices, he could hardly leave Rodney behind. He took a step forward, reached out to touch Rodney's shoulder, but he could already feel his attention slipping sideways, back to the device.  
  
"Rodney," Sheppard said more insistently, but the urge to give in was pushing at him, and he gave in almost helplessly. A light on the console turned on, and Sheppard heard Rodney say, "What the he-" and then everything went dark.

* * *

 

When consciousness returned, Rodney heard the birds first. He noticed the sunlight second, shining as it was directly in his eyes. He blinked once, twice, and then his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see again. Rodney was standing outside, in a clearing.

The rest of his team was there with him, but they were - Rodney blinked again. They were dressed odd. They definitely weren't wearing the clothes they had been moments ago, back in the lab on Atlantis. Sheppard had a mustache and a hat. His clothes looked dark and thick, the black and gold cloak draped heavily over his shoulders. Ronon's hair was no longer dreadlocked, his clothes of similar style to Sheppard's, though Ronon's were brown and lacked a cloak. Teyla was wearing a loose, white cotton shirt and thick, dark brown pants. All three were sporting knee-high boots that brought to mind pirates.  
  
Rodney glanced down, dreading what he might find. Sure enough, he was wearing thick, dark material. He was affronted to find a gold cross around his neck and a hat in hand. Something tickled his cheek, and when he reached up to brush whatever it was, he felt long, soft hair. Rodney's head jerked up and he met the startled, confused gazes of his team members.  
  
A squirrel ran by. Birds chirped.  
  
"Multiplayer mode engaged," a calm, feminine voice said. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. A quick glance around showed them to be alone in the clearing. Out of habit, the team took up its usual positions, with Rodney in the center and the other three turned away from him, on the lookout for danger. Rodney stayed between them all, but inched closer to Sheppard. Ronon may be a better warrior, but Sheppard made Rodney feel safe.  
  
Teyla was the first to speak. "I do not believe," she said slowly, "that we are in Kansas any longer."  
  
No matter how often Teyla or Ronon referenced pop culture, it never got any less weird. Sheppard and Rodney shared a look. Rodney opened his mouth to share his theories on where they were and how they got there, but before he could, someone appeared a few feet away. The person was clearly a hologram: they flickered, like their connection was bad, but even at their firmest they were still see-through.  
  
"Welcome!" The man said, spreading his hands wide. He had a kind face, with a friendly smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners. He had a slender form draped in light blues and grays. Everything about him just screamed 'Ancient' to Rodney. "You have started a new game."  
  
"Game?" Sheppard asked, hand instinctively going to his thigh for his gun. It wasn't there, and instead he patted his thigh several times before he seemed to remember.  
  
"Indeed," The man said. "My name is Marus. I will be your handler."  
  
"Handler," Ronon repeated flatly, eyes narrowed. His entire body was tense, ready to defend against an attack. He looked dangerous, even without his very large gun. Rodney would bet all his knives had been taken as well. It wasn't a comforting thought.  
  
"Yes. I will be giving you your missions and may be called upon for tips." Marus' expression never changed and he made no move to get closer to the team. He seemed content to stand where he was and answering their questions.  
  
"Missions?" Sheppard asked warily.  
  
"Complete the missions and you win the game!" The man said, his smile widening. A headache was beginning to form behind Rodney's right eye. He really didn't like the idea that was forming.  
  
"Can we exit the game?" Sheppard asked, though he didn't look hopeful.  
  
"Not until you complete the first mission." Marus said. "It should take no time at all."  
  
"What if we are injured in the game?" Teyla asked. Rodney leaned forward. He hadn't considered that. Who knows what that could do to a person? They didn't have enough information to know, but he could guess.  
  
"You will feel some pain," Marus said. He looked solemn now. "But it will not be debilitating. Consequences of injuries are mainly slower reflexes and loss of points."  
  
"Wait, wait, points? We're earning points? How?" Rodney asked, holding one hand up.  
  
Marus blinked at them. He seemed surprised. "Did you not read the rules before you activated the game?"  
  
"Uh," Sheppard said. "No." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  
  
"Very well then." Marus straightened, his face falling into a neutral expression. He began to speak in a low, even tone. "The rules of the game are simple. Complete missions to gain potion ingredients and points. These points go toward leveling up; each level up will correspond with an increase in health, strength, and agility. You can find potion ingredients growing wild in the forest."  
  
"What are we supposed to do with potion ingredients?" Rodney asked.  
  
Marus blinked. "You make potions with them."  
  
"Do I look like a chemist? Does anyone here look like a chemist?" Rodney demanded to know, flinging one hand out to gesture and nearly smacking Ronon in the chest. Though Rodney did concede, if only in his private thoughts, that being mistaken for a chemist was preferable to other occupations. Rodney glanced down at the cross around his neck, nose wrinkling and mouth forming a grimace.  
  
"Creating a potion is not hard, Doctor McKay," Marus said calmly. Rodney stared. He was certain he'd never given his name. But this was Ancient tech, with all the mind reading capabilities that came with it. "There are books with recipes to be found."  
  
"Just who would have this potion making responsibility?"  
  
"You, of course." Marus said. At Rodney's sputtering, he turned to look at the rest of the team, as though asking for helping in dealing with the crazy person. Rodney scowled. The rest of the team gazed helplessly back.  
  
"Why me, of course?" Rodney asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"You are the Man of Religion," Marus explained. "You help others, including the sick and infirm. While the others are fighting, you are in position to keep their health bar full."  
  
"Man of religion?" Rodney repeated. "You - religion is nothing more than - I am not the man of anything to do with religion! I am a man of science."  
  
"In the real world, perhaps," Marus said, now beginning to look slightly exasperated. "But in the game, you are the man of religion. When there are more players, there would be one specifically for potions making, but as there are only four of you, you will have to double up."  
  
"Am I going to have to pray?" Rodney asked, affronted. "I won't be praying."  
  
"Doctor McKay -" Marus started, his expression taking on an annoyed cast.  
  
"Rodney, just accept the damn job and lets go," Sheppard interrupted, nudging Rodney with his shoulder and giving him a pointed look.  
"We need only complete one mission," Teyla added reasonably. "Surely you can bear this for just one?" He tilted her head at him. The sunlight caught the copper highlights in her hair. Rodney sighed and gave in. No matter his feelings on the entire situation, they would still have to complete one mission to exit the game.  
  
"Fine," Rodney said.  
  
"At least you don't have a mustache," Sheppard said. "It's annoying."  
  
"I've seen you go without shaving for a day," Rodney responded. "You're not far off from that."  
  
"I'm scruffy, Rodney. I'm not about to sprout a thick mustache on my upper lip."  
  
"It could be worse," Rodney said. "You could have a 70's porno mustache."  
  
Sheppard couldn't hide his horror at the thought. Rodney felt the corner of his mouth twitch up and ducked his head so Sheppard wouldn't see. He wasn't quick enough, or Sheppard guessed at Rodney's expression, because he felt a sharp elbow in his side a moment later.  
  
"Your first mission is to gather information from the locals," Marus said. "Head into the nearby town - there you will find weapons for purchasing and locals to befriend. Be careful, however! Push too hard or come on too strong, and the locals will become suspicious or frightened, and your mission will be a failure."  
  
"Just like a regular day off-world," Rodney commented.  
  
A large black square appeared in the center of the clearing just as Marus winked out of existence. Rodney blinked, surprised. Sheppard stepped forward, putting himself between the black square and Rodney, sword - which Rodney had forgotten about - drawn and pointed. He looked rather dashing, if one ignored the facial hair (which Rodney decided he would.) Teyla and Ronon were in similar positions, though they held their swords with more confidence.  
  
The black square looked solid enough, despite hanging in mid-air by no means Rodney could see. Rodney couldn't begin to guess what it was made out of; it looked almost as though black smoke had hardened. Ancient letters began to appear over the board in random placements. The team watched silently, alertly, until no more lettering appeared. Rodney tilted his head and translated.  
  
"Mission One," he read. "Gather information. Time limit: twelve hours."  
  
"Title card," Sheppard said. "Cool." Rodney thought it rather plain, personally.  
  
"Guess we'd better get going," Ronon said, looking impatient. Sheppard and Teyla nodded, and together herded Rodney out of the clearing, with Ronon taking their six. As soon as Ronon left the clearing and entered the forest, the black title disappeared, and all that was left were the animals.

* * *

  
  
Rodney didn't notice at first. Teyla was leading the way since Sheppard had no sense of direction, with Sheppard at Rodney's side and Ronon behind. Rodney spent some time complaining about their situation, including the sunlight no doubt burning is pale skin, the potential for disgusting bugs, and the long walk. It was just as he was winding down that he felt the heavy weight on his left. When he glanced down, he was so startled he stopped in his tracks.  
  
He stared down at the sword at his hip. Rodney never held a sword before; had never felt the urge to. The closest to this kind of weapon he'd ever gotten was Ronon's sword - that is to say, not close at all. It was heavier than he'd expected, the blade longer.  
  
"Um," He said. He twisted to the side and awkwardly pulled the sword from its sheath. He held away from his body, as if it were an animal prone to biting. "Can someone take this, please?"  
  
Teyla shook her head and laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "It is our only form of weapon in this world," she said. "You cannot go without some measure of self-defense."  
  
"I'm not sure my wielding of a sword is a safe option," Rodney said, dubiously. The grip of the sword was warm against his palm.  
  
"Hopefully you won't ever have to use it," Sheppard said. Rodney agreed with that sentiment, and if he were a religious man, he'd be sending a prayer up that he never need wield it. If they were to reach the point where they were relying on Rodney's non-existent swordsmanship, they were in deep shit, anyway.  
  
"Right then. Now what?"" Rodney said, and awkwardly settled his sword into the scabbard attached to a strip of leather that wrapped around his waist.

* * *

  
  
Teyla was the one who found the city. With Sheppard's lack of navigation ability while on the ground and Ronon bringing up their six, it had been up to Teyla to find the nearby city from which they were to gather information. Some small part of Rodney had hoped the place would be industrialized, but he couldn't say he was surprised by the farming community they found instead. It looked similar to every backwater city of Pegasus. Uneven, cobbled streets; precariously made houses; and fenced in farm animals. People filled the streets, dressed in a similar manner as the team, though the women wore dresses with those funny little hats.  
  
"Let us try the local tavern," Teyla suggested, leading the way. Inside the tavern was pleasantly cool, with the windows open to let in a breeze and the room in shadow. They took their seat in a corner table, Rodney with his back to the room, the other three situated so they could keep an eye on the room at all times. Their constant scanning of the room made Rodney twitchy with nerves.  
  
"We looking for anybody in particular?" Sheppard drawled, sprawling back in his chair, legs spread. He smiled at a passing waitress and she giggled.  
  
"There," Ronon grunted, nodding his head. Rodney tried to turn casually, but there was really no way to twist in your chair to face the opposite direction without looking like that was exactly what you were doing. He noticed a guy slumped at the bar, a half-empty glass in front of him. The man had unkempt hair and dirty skin. Rodney could almost smell the alcohol from here.  
  
"The drunk?" Rodney asked, furrowing his brow.  
  
"Yeah," Ronon said. He was picking at the dirt under his nails with his knife.  
  
"Why him?"  
  
"It will be easy to get information out of him." Teyla said. "We merely offer to buy him a drink in exchange for information."  
  
"Seems too easy," Rodney said dubiously. A game with a ZPM as a prize would surely entail more dangerous things like...dragon fighting or something.  
  
"He's a place to start," Sheppard said. "At the very least, he can give us a better idea of what sort of questions we should be asking."  
  
"Right." Well, they seemed confident and Rodney had no reason to doubt them. "Which one of us is going to approach him?"  
  
"I will do it." Teyla said with determination.  
  
"You sure?" Sheppard asked, tilting his head.  
  
"Very." Teyla sent him a bright smile. "I am sure I can convince him to tell me what he would not a strange man."  
  
"Feminine wiles," Rodney said approvingly. Teyla had that in spades; she could charm any man into telling her what she wanted to know. Rodney eyed the part of her chest not covered by her loose shirt. When he met Teyla's eyes, she had one eyebrow raised. Rodney glanced over at John, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Rodney flushed and stared down at his drink and mumbled an apology. He had great respect for Teyla, for her abilities and her intelligence. She was also hot, and every now and then Rodney was distracted by it.  
  
Teyla _accidentally_  stepped on his foot as she stood to move to the bar. Rodney winced.

* * *

  
  
Teyla returned with a smile and a tightness around her eyes. Rodney inched closer to Ronon and avoided Teyla's eyes. Teyla was one of the calmest people Rodney knew, but she also had a quiet temper.  
  
"Did you find anything out?" Sheppard asked quietly.  
  
"I did," Teyla said. "Corrinth was most...accommodating."  
  
"You okay?" Ronon asked.  
  
Teyla smiled at all three of them. The tension in her shoulders relaxed and she took a sip of the drink the team had ordered for her while she was working on completing the mission. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.  
  
"I am fine. He merely assumed I was available for a price and would not believe me when I told him otherwise."  
  
"Did he touch you?" Ronon asked dangerously. Rodney wondered if anyone would notice if he ducked under the table to get out of their way. Ronon leaping to defend Teyla's honor, with Teyla trying to stop him, could only lead to injuries for slow moving astrophysicists.  
  
"I have taken care of it, Ronon." Teyla said firmly, her tone making it clear the discussion was closed. "I do not need your protection."  
  
Rodney suddenly wondered about the things Teyla experienced that she never mentioned. The little slights, the sexual invitations, the possible assumptions that she must belong to one of them. Rodney wondered how many times their leaping to Teyla's defense had only made the situation worse for her later on. He'd never noticed any sexism during their missions, but he'd never paid attention either. Were women considered of less value than men in the Pegasus Galaxy like they were in the Milky Way galaxy?  
  
Before Rodney could say something, Teyla was continuing. "It appears that the King's son has disappeared. There are many suspects, but none have come forward to make demands."  
  
"Couldn't he have just ran away?" Rodney asked, but Teyla was shaking her head even before Rodney had finished.  
  
"Though it was not said, I feel as though the prince is not the type to take his duties lightly." Meaning he wouldn't skip town for a bit of fun, Rodney interpreted.  
  
"So," John said slowly, "we save the prince?" He leaned forward eagerly, one hand curled around his mug of ale.  
  
"That would be my guess," Teyla agreed.  
  
"Let's do it," Ronon said, looking eager to begin bashing heads in and wielding his sword. His fervor for violence was alarming; Rodney thought fondly of the days when Ronon was mostly silent and unreadable. Nowadays he spent too much time with the marines and was adopting their terrible habits. Rodney was pretty sure he once heard Ronon say 'bitchin,' though he'd been low on sleep at the time and could have hallucinated that.  
  
Rodney hated to be the bearer of bad news, but: "Are we really doing this? I thought we’d quit after the first mission.”  
  
“Where’s your sense of adventure, McKay?” John wanted to know. Rodney gave him a look, then crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin.  
  
“Fine. Where do we start? It's not as though we know who has him."  
  
"Talk to more people," Ronon suggested. "Sometimes they know more than they let on."  
  
"But will they tell us? We don't all have Teyla's, er, gift for diplomacy."  
  
"It seems there is a strong consensus on who the kidnapper is," Teyla said serenely. She smiled at their surprise. "You did not let me finish before you began making plans."  
  
"Lets hear it then." Rodney clapped his hands together, ready to get this first mission over with. He wanted to get out of this ridiculous scenario and back to his lab where he could get some  _real_  work done. Teyla folded her hands on the table and watched people enter and exit the tavern, her face open and calm. People smiled at her as they walked by.  
  
"It seems the people suspect the King's advisor, Caldgon, most strongly." Teyla revealed. She seemed surprised when Rodney groaned and rubbed at his forehead.  
  
"That just - that seems so cliché," he complained. "The trusted adviser, betraying the king due to greed."  
  
"Could be worse. It could have been some sort of evil creature hell bent on destroying the kingdom. At least this way the enemy is human."  
  
"No orcs." They'd watched the Lord of the Rings Trilogy just the other day for team movie night. Teyla had fallen asleep curled up in the chair while Ronon had been utterly fascinated with the battle scenes, shouting at the television. Rodney had been too busy explaining to an interested John what the movies had left out. Rodney thought fondly of movie nights - he liked being surrounded by his team when there was no life-or-death situations hanging over them. He liked Teyla's soft snores and Ronon's loud chewing, the warm press of John's arm against his relaxing, making him sleepy.  
  
"Or uruk-hai," John added. He scratched his cheek and answered Teyla and Ronon's unspoken question. "Those ugly things from Lord of the Rings."

* * *

 

With Teyla’s information in mind – including the location of the advisors private residence, the team set out. The mansion wasn’t too far from the city, luckily. This made sense, as the king’s court was nearby as well, keeping everything in a nice, central location. They were making good time when John stopped suddenly, holding one hand out.  
  
“Hold on a minute,” he said. The team stopped, turning to look at him inquisitively. Rodney’s eyes were wide, glancing around the area before his gaze returned to John.  
  
“Did you see something? Are we in danger already?”  
  
“No, McKay,” John said calmly. “Don’t you think we should pause the game and send a message to Atlantis? Won’t they worry about where we’ve been?”  
  
“Good idea,” Ronon said.  
  
“How will we accomplish this?” Teyla asked, tilting her head sideways. Everyone turned to look at Rodney, who grumbled in reply. He didn’t have any of his equipment with him, what was he supposed to do?  
  
“The VR game was activated by Sheppard,” Rodney mused, “I suppose he can control it like he can anything else created by the Ancients. He probably still has a connection to the device.”  
  
John frowned. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”  
  
“Relax,” Rodney dismissed, “It’s like being in the VR on the Auora. Same concept.”  
  
“There’s no place like home?” John asked wryly. Rodney snapped his fingers and pointed at him in agreement. John sighed and shifted his weight, tilting his head back and staring up at the sky. He looked focused, intent, and after a moment, a menu – simple in design, looking very similar to the title card – appeared in the air above them.  
  
“What are you doing?” Marus asked, appearing suddenly. This startled Rodney’s teammates into drawing their weapons, looking fierce and deadly with the sunlight glinting off their swords.  
  
“We’d like to inform our people of our location,” Teyla explained, “This is so they do not worry or panic.”  
  
"Are you sure you want to exit the game?" Marus looked disappointed. "You will lose your chance at winning the grand prize."  
  
Rodney perked up. "Grand prize?"  
  
"Indeed. Complete the game and you will be rewarded greatly."  
  
"Rewarded with what?"  
  
Marus' smile returned. "A miniature potentia."  
  
Rodney froze, eyes wide. He made a strangled, choking noise. The initial rush of excitement was soon dimmed as sanity returned. Nothing was ever this easy, and if it was, there were always consequences. Was the ZPM even real, or was it just an in-game reward? And if it was real, why make something as valuable as a ZPM into a video game reward?  
  
"Are we talking about a virtual ZPM?" Sheppard asked, apparently thinking along the same lines as Rodney. Rodney's head snapped around to look at Sheppard, expression clearly showing how he felt about the idea of a virtual ZPM. He turned to look at Marus, one side of his mouth pulled down with dismay. The Ancients had done a good many crazy, inexplicable things. Rodney could only hope their craziness extended to making miniature ZPMs as a grand prize for beating what amounted to an Ancient video game.  
  
Rodney's experienced stranger things in this galaxy.  
  
"The potentia will be awarded to you upon completion of the game," Marus explained. "Simply step up to the console near the game technology and it will be handed over."  
  
"Just like that?" Sheppard asked skeptically.  
  
"Yes. But you must beat the game - the game is hooked up to the reward system. It will know if you try to cheat."  
  
Rodney moved closer to Sheppard, attempting to look casual. He failed. "I could hack -" Rodney began in a low tone.  
  
"No," Sheppard interrupted, voice quiet. "Do you want to take the chance? No hacking. Let’s try it this way first."  
  
Rodney grimaced. "You can't be serious?"  
  
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. His voice took on a challenging undertone, which made Rodney bristle. "You don't think we can win? What's the matter McKay, afraid you aren't up for it?"  
  
"I'm up for anything this game throws at me," Rodney snapped. "I just don't see why we should go through the whole process when I can simply hack the machine to give us what we want."  
  
"You don't think they'd have safeguards against tampering?" Sheppard argued.  
  
"I can work around them," Rodney said stubbornly. What was Sheppard's problem? He usually gave in after a while, perhaps because Rodney really was as good as he thought he was. Often times his hacking abilities had saved the lives of the team or even the entire city.  
  
"I said no, McKay. Lets try it this way first."  
  
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and glared mulishly. Sheppard took a step closer, bringing his mouth close to Rodney's ear. Rodney's arms dropped to his sides and his face flushed a little. He could feel Sheppard's warm breath.  
  
"Hacking as a last resort only, Rodney. I don't want to jump the gun and ruin any chance we have at getting one of those baby ZPMs."  
  
"Fine," Rodney gave in with ill grace and hurried took a step away from Sheppard. While the two had been arguing over the best method of ZPM retrieval, Teyla and Ronon had been distracting Marus. Though he had not been oblivious to the conversation between Sheppard and Rodney, he had gamely engaged Teyla in a discussion of how things worked. By the time Sheppard and Rodney moved to rejoin the group, Teyla was smiling.  
  
"It does not appear all that dangerous, Colonel," she said. "If you die in the game, you are given two options: start over from your last 'save point', or exit the game. Injuries slow you down but are not life-threatening and can be cured with a healing potion. Mission failure results in removal from the game and any parties must then start over."  
  
"Sounds simple enough," Sheppard said cautiously. He had the best team on Atlantis and he was confident they could handle a straight-forward 'mission' like this one. But this seemed too easy, and even on Earth when something seemed too good to be true it usually was. Sheppard couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something horrible was going to happen.  
  
Teyla turned back to Marus with a smile. "We accept the challenge and wish to continue."  
  
"Excellent!" Marus exclaimed, clapping two hands together. "You'll be needing a team leader, I believe. It's important to have someone give direction."  
  
"I'm the -" Sheppard began, but stopped when Teyla started to glow. She was bathed in golden, glittering light, looking impossibly gorgeous. Teyla was as startled as the rest of them, tilting her head up to squint at the source of the light. As suddenly as it appeared, however, it was gone.  
  
"Team leader selected," the calm, feminine voice from before said. Possibly the narrator, Rodney thought. Marus the guide, the bodiless woman narrator, and the team as pawns forced to jump through hoops. Still, if he had to jump through hoops, Rodney would prefer it to be for ZPMs, rather than just the usual 'escaping death'.  
  
"Um," Sheppard said. He opened and closed his mouth several times before shrugging. "Yeah, okay. Works for me."  
  
Teyla smiled. "Thank you, Colonel."  
  
Sheppard grinned. "Better you than Rodney."  
  
"Hey!" Rodney squawked. He glared at Sheppard, who smiled back unrepentantly. Rodney grumbled but allowed Sheppard to grab his sleeve and pull him closer to Teyla and Ronon. When Sheppard let go, Rodney didn't step away. Sheppard didn't seem to notice how close Rodney was standing, not even when their shoulders bumped as they returned to their journey to the evil advisor’s lair.

* * *

  
  
The mansion was rather imposing. Rodney’s knowledge didn’t extend much to architecture, but there was something about the building that seemed looming and dark - like a sleeping monster. Rodney shivered; if the man was anything like his place of residence, it was no wonder he was a suspect. They stood together watching the comings and goings of the castle, taking note of the number of guards and servants moving about.  
  
“It will be difficult to fight our way in,” Teyla commented.  
  
“But not impossible,” Ronon said, eyes on the enemy.  
  
Rodney raised one hand tentatively. “Um, hello? Not exactly a fighter here.”  
  
“We wait until it’s dark,” John said confidently. “The servants will be asleep and the guards will take shifts, reducing the number we have to deal with.”  
  
“Taking out the two at the entrance would not be difficult,” Teyla shared.  
  
“So the four of us are going to just go traipsing about the castle looking for a sign that says, ‘important information here’? That’s ridiculous.” Rodney pointed out.  
  
“He’ll have an office,” John said firmly.  
  
“You sure?” Ronon asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
John shrugged. “He’s an important man with a serious job. He’ll have a private place to stash papers. The problem is, in a place this size, it’ll take some searching.”  
  
“We could split up,” Teyla suggested.  
  
“Is that really a good idea? Haven’t horror movies taught you anything?” Rodney asked, appalled.  
  
“Two people are less noticeable than four,” Ronon said, which Rodney already knew thank you very much. He listened during lessons…sometimes. That was definitely something that had stuck with him.  
  
“I don’t like this plan,” Rodney put forth. Nobody seemed to care.  
  
“Ronon and I can keep an eye on Calgon,” Teyla said. “If need be, we can cause quite a distraction.”  
  
Ronon grinned so widely Rodney leaned away.

* * *

  
  
"This is a terrible idea," Rodney hissed as he followed John through the corridors. Getting into the mansion had been easy - Ronon and Teyla had taken down the guards at the entrance with ease. Sneaking through the mansion in the dead of night with no plausible excuse for being there just seemed to be asking for trouble, and with Ronon and Teyla keeping an eye on the adviser and his many guards, it would be up to John and Rodney to handle any guards that stumble across them. Rodney was fairly confident John could handle himself; he was no Teyla or Ronon, but he was adequate in hand-to-hand combat and wasn't as hopeless as Rodney with a sword. Rodney had no such confidence in himself, and heading into the depths of the evil adviser's lair seemed foolhardy at best.  
  
"We need to know where he's keeping the kid," John whispered. "He'd want reports from personal guards to make sure the kid hasn't escaped, and he wouldn't leave those lying around."  
  
The stone walls of the castle were cold against Rodney's hand as they stuck close to the wall. The torches that lit the corridors were barely adequate, casting flickering light that seemed to create more shadows than illuminate. Rodney sternly reminded himself that injury or death in the game did not carry over to the real world - though the prize ZPM did. It didn't make him any more eager to experience dying in the game, but it calmed the incipient panic attack.  
  
Their history of sneaking around hive ships had come in handy. By this time it was habit to listen for footsteps and duck into the nearest alcove or open room. The first floor was the most heavily guarded, which made sense: that was where the castle entrances were, after all. The second floor was much easier and faster to navigate, with the guards more relaxed. After climbing the winding stairs to the third floor, Rodney and John had just enough time to duck behind a large statue as guards went past. It was incredibly close; if they had hesitated for only a moment, the guard would have turned the corner and spotted them. Rodney's back didn't appreciate the bent position he was in, boxed in as he was between the wall, the statue, and John. The warmth of John's body against Rodney's front contrasted sharply with the cold stone against his back. Rodney shivered and pressed closer to John. John put his hand on Rodney's knee and squeezed. When Rodney looked up, John met his eyes. The corners of his lips were curled up just so; Rodney wanted to kiss him, wanted to make him smile bright and happy.  
  
Before he could make a move, John was up, glancing cautiously around the statue. He waved for Rodney to join him, and with a grunt and the help of the base of that statue, Rodney heaved himself to his feet.  
  
"We should be almost there," Rodney whispered.  
  
"His office is at the end of the hall," John responded quietly, gesturing. Calgon's office was situated where two corridors met, the door tucked into the corner. Rodney glanced over and grimaced - they'd have to hurry. There were few places to hide in this corridor, and they weren't even sure the door would be unlocked.  
  
"Stick close to me," John said needlessly. Rodney didn't bother responding. John stuck close to the wall, hunching down, trying to stick to the shadows, pausing every few feet to listen for approaching footsteps. Rodney did the same, but couldn't hear anything over the pounding of his heart and the loudness of his breathing. As before, he reminded himself that he wasn't in any actual danger; like before, it barely helped. It  _felt_  dangerous and that was enough to get his adrenaline going. Rodney feared a heart attack.  
  
John used the hand signal for stop and slowly peered around the corner, down the other corridor. After a moment, he pulled back and turned to Rodney, jerking his head toward the door, and Rodney wanted to protest being the one sent out in the open, but John would probably be better at keeping an eye out anyway. Rodney glanced behind him once before straightening, pausing when John reached up to brush Rodney's hand with his fingers. Their eyes met, and although nothing described in romance novels occurred, something passed between them nonetheless. He hurried to the closed door, trying to ignore how exposed he felt, and tried the handle. He could hear no movement inside (not that it'd be possible to tell through the thick door) and when he could not pull the door open, he pressed his shoulder against the dark wood and began pushing.  
  
The door was heavy, creaking with movement. Rodney wondered how Calgon got it open when he was such a slim, weasel-like guy, but he did have all those muscular lunkheads following him around. Behind him, he heard John hiss, and then he was being shoved through the door, John's body propelling his forward, through the doorway and into the room.  
  
"Help me with this!" John said, and together they pushed the door closed  quicker than Rodney had opened it. They rested against it for a moment. When John met Rodney's eyes, he sighed. "Guards on patrol."  
  
Rodney nodded. Given their luck, he didn't expect them to go undetected forever, but it'd be nice if they weren't discovered until after they had the information they were looking for. The room was unlit, the desk and furniture nothing more than large, dark shapes. There was a fireplace in one corner of the room, still full with wood, littered with paper as starter. Rodney let John start the fire since he would get one going faster than Rodney could. He turned to begin the search, taking in the pile of scrolls, empty bottles, thick books, and weird paraphernalia that littered the large, heavy desk that dominated the room. Once the room was lit by the fire - which immediately began warming the room - John took the drawers while Rodney sorted through the stuff on top. _Thank god for science reports_ , Rodney thought, as they had given him the ability to skim documents for basic information. Calgon appeared to have no organization at all, throwing things haphazardly about. This was good, as it meant he wouldn't notice if the papers weren't put back in their original order, but it made searching for one particular thing more difficult.  
  
Just when Rodney was beginning to despair, he found the piece of paper of he was looking for. "Got it!" he said triumphantly, and John popped up from where he had been kneeling on the floor, rummaging through the bottom drawers. His hair seemed to vibrate with excitement.  
  
"What's it say?" he demanded.  
  
"A large portion of Calgon's men is holding fort at some chateau," Rodney summarized. "Apparently Calgon bought the place not long after he was selected as an adviser. It's up in the hills to the North, in a relatively remote location. It's likely Leon is being held there."

"Does it say anything about what kind of opposition numbers we're facing?"  
  
Rodney skimmed the rest of the document, and then shook his head. "No."  
  
"Any other useful tidbits?" John asked, one eye on the door.  
  
"Not that I can tell," Rodney admitted.  
  
"We should go, then." When Rodney went to tuck the paper into his pocket, John made a sharp motion with his hand. "Leave it; he may notice it's missing."  
  
Leaving the paper tucked under others, Rodney moved to join John at the door. A glint caught his eye and he paused, turning to glance back at the room. Something was glowing on one of the tall bookshelves that lined the room. Rodney debated for only a moment before curiosity won out and he moved deeper into the room. He heard John hiss something, but didn't pause to respond. He slowed as he reached the bookshelf, wondering if this could be a trap, something dangerous. Rodney rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it out if need be. He reached up, brushed his fingers against something relatively smooth and cool. He held his breath, waiting, but when nothing attacked, when the silence remained unbroken, he grabbed hold and brought it close.  
  
"Did you find something?" John asked, suddenly at his side.  
  
"Mmm," Rodney hummed. He was holding a simple piece of paper. It continued to glow in his hand, by no source that Rodney could see. He flipped it over and the light faded, leaving behind a simple piece of paper covered in what appeared to be instructions for something.  
  
"Video game," John muttered, and when Rodney looked at him quizzically, explained, "In games when you can keep an object, it'll glow to catch your attention."  
  
Rodney inhaled. He'd seen that kind of thing in the video games John and Ronon liked like play - those ridiculous shooting games, like Resident Evil. Setting those thoughts aside, Rodney examined the paper closely, tilting it so the paper was illuminated by the fire's glow. Scanning it, Rodney was pleased to find the recipe for a more advanced healing potion, something that would surely come in handy with Ronon and John on the team. If only he could use this kind of thing in real life...  
  
John nudged his shoulder, eyes once again on the door. Rodney blinked, feeling the urgency creeping back now that his curiosity had been satisfied. "It's a recipe for an advanced healing potion," Rodney explained. "It'll heal our 'wounds' more." So far none of them had been seriously injured thankfully; the injuries they'd suffered so far had barely slowed them down, and as Marus had promised, hadn't really hurt, either.  
  
"We need to go  _now_ ," John commanded, and together they approached the door. Easing it open a crack, wincing at the creaking, John looked for guards. Finding none, he opened the door just enough for them to slip through. Now that they were on their way out, Rodney felt a lot more relaxed, though he was still relieved when they made it down to the main floor without discovery. That is where things got tricky - the floor was heavily guarded, and it had been luck that got them through the first time.  
  
These guards were on high alert, with two pairs walking the halls in opposite directions and people stationed at the exits. Rodney felt his heart pounding in his chest; this would be the first time he’d have to use a sword. As if that were not bad enough, John was depending on him to have his back. Rodney fervently wished the team hadn’t split up.  
  
John waited until the corridor was clear of guards walking through. Once it was only the entrance guards, John slipped through the doorway, Rodney following close behind. He didn’t bother trying to close it quietly – they had already been spotted by the guards, and John was wasting no time meeting them. Rodney admired the determined line of John’s shoulders as he parried the guard’s thrust. He made it look easy. Rodney watched the other guard, who was approaching him, with terror. He held his sword in front of him awkwardly. He swallowed heavily in the face of the guard’s confident grin and lifted his chin. He would do this – John couldn’t take both guards at once.

Rodney breathed out and sidestepped the guard’s first thrust, blocking his following swipe with his sword. The force of it reverberated through the sword and Rodney grit his teeth, forcing himself to hold steady. They circled each other, Rodney doing his best not to be pushed into a corner. He had been trained to fight defensively, since he was no soldier. At best, he could hold an enemy off until help arrived. In this case, that meant until John had finished his own fight.  
  
Realizing Rodney was never going to make the first move, the guard leapt forward. Rodney stumbled back, tripping over his boots, but recovered with just enough time to barely block the swing of the guard’s sword, the clang of metal on metal sending a jolt through Rodney. He hated this, he hated it so much, this stupid world with its primitive everything; why couldn’t the VR game be set in Atlantis?

Rodney kicked out at the guard, hoping that would force him to take a step back. It didn’t work; instead, the guard pressed his advantage while Rodney was balance on one foot, and this time he couldn’t catch himself as he stumbled back and fell. His sword slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor, and he stared up at the guard as he moved closer, his confident grin growing wider. Rodney whimpered. He couldn’t remember if Ronon or Teyla had ever covered this during training sessions, but desperation made him consider kicking at the man. Only the fear of losing his feet stopped him. Instead, he scrambled backward, doing his best to put some distance between himself and the guard. It wasn’t working.

Looming above Rodney, the guard shifted his grip on the sword, pointing it down toward Rodney. The guard was going to skewer him; Rodney was going to be pinned to the floor like those bugs in a child’s bug collection. It didn’t matter that this was a game, Rodney wanted to live his entire life without knowing what being run through with a sword feels like. He tensed, preparing to roll, but it was unnecessary. A sword appeared in the middle of the man’s chest, red with blood. Rodney blinked at John standing behind the guard, face twisted in a grim expression. John let the guard fall, his tight grip on the pommel making it slide slickly out of the guard’s chest. Rodney gagged, squeezing his eyes shut.

He took several deep breaths, fighting the nausea, and opened his eyes only when he felt John touching his shoulder. Rodney looked at John, meeting his serious green eyes.

“We can’t stay here, Rodney,” John said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. Rodney walked on shaky legs over to his own discarded sword. As he straightened from bending over to pick it up, he heard a loud shout. The guards walking the corridors had finally come back around, their shouts no doubt drawing others to the area. John grabbed Rodney’s sleeve and hauled him toward the door, pushing him in front.

Rodney slammed into the heavy wooden door, a sharp pain jolting through his shoulder at the impact, but there was no time to complain. They ran for the woods, hoping to lose the guards there. They were lucky the area was heavily forested – the deep brush meant plenty of hiding places or areas well-suited for an ambush. Since joining an off world team, Rodney had learned to appreciate the cover a forest could provide, though he still did not enjoy sleeping on the hard, cold ground.

The guards behind them weren’t giving up. John and Rodney reached the forest at a dead run, sticks cracking under their feet, branches slapping at their chests and faces. The noise they were making was easy to follow, the guards close enough that losing them would be unlikely. John had yet to let go of Rodney’s sleeve, and he used that grip to yank Rodney sideways suddenly, with no warning at all. His feet went out from under him and he hit the ground with a pained _oof_.

“Under there,” John said, indicating a thick bush. There was a small gap, barely big enough for a child. Rodney had no idea how John had spotted it during their mad dash, but he was grateful for the chance to stop running and scrambled to get under. . It was cramped, sticks poking into Rodney everywhere – which hurt – and Rodney wished for a moment that Ronon and Teyla would show up. John slipped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to quiet his breathing, which had the added benefit of making Rodney freeze. The callouses of John’s hand were rough against Rodney’s lips.

The guards burst into view while Rodney was musing on the feel of John’s hand. He tensed. If these guards were as good a tracker as Ronon, they were fucked. They hadn’t been terribly careful when climbing under the damn bush, in too much of a hurry to worry about tracks and broken sticks.

Every second seemed to last an eternity. Rodney wished for a pit to open up and swallow the two enemies whole, but despite this being a VR, Rodney wishing it were so did not make it so.

“Where did they go?” the one with a mustache much like John’s asked.

“Why would I know?”

“Let us split up,” the first responded. He gestured vaguely with his sword, “I will go this way.”

“Fine. I shall go this way,” the second indicated the opposite direction.

“If you find them, take care of the chubby one first. He is weak,” the mustached man instructed. Rodney made a faint noise of protest against John’s palm. He objected to being described in such a manner by a man who probably had an average IQ.

The two went stomping off, much quieter now that they weren’t running. Rodney waited for John to climb out before he dared to move, gratefully accepting the hand up when it was offered.

“This place is going to give me a heart attack,” Rodney muttered, “Between the sword fighting, the running, and the being afraid for my life.”

John was unsympathetic. “It’s just a game, Rodney. You do this stuff in real life.”

“I do not sword fight in real life! We have guns. God, I miss guns.”

John patted him patronizingly on the shoulder. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand and find Ronon and Teyla.”

Rodney nodded eagerly and followed John at a brisk pace.

* * *

  
  
When they reunited with Ronon and Teyla deep in the forest, Rodney was tired and feeling a little shaky. After the fighting, running, and hiding, his heart was pounding, adrenaline flooding his system. Rodney would be worried about a heart attack if he weren't struggling so much to catch his breath. John stepped close, resting a hand on Rodney's back, and Rodney knew it was John's silent way of asking if Rodney would be alright.  
  
"I'm good," he huffed, straightening up. He gave John two thumbs up - the best he could do, gasping as he was. Teyla watched him with concern, but he waved her off. He couldn’t avoid Ronon's thump, however, and stumbled forward a step or two from the force of it. He missed the scolding look Teyla sent Ronon as he staggered to a tree for support.  
  
"Have you been waiting long?" John asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead.  
  
"No," Teyla responded. "We heard the commotion you and Rodney caused as you were leaving the castle and took our leave."  
  
"Good, good."

The title card appeared then, the words “Mission Two: Complete” shining brightly. Above their heads, their level upgrades floated. Rodney was disgruntled to see everyone’s strength and agility upgrades were far above his own. He scowled as they faded away. Already they were becoming used to the sight; in Pegasus, you roll with the punches or get knocked down, and a holographic title card was nothing.  
  
"What now?" Rodney asked. He wished the game had allowed them to keep their canteens; he could use a drink.  
  
"We can make camp once we get further from the castle," Teyla says.  
  
"Good idea," John nodded. Further away from the guards and possible injury sounded wonderful to Rodney, especially when it meant finally reaching a place where he could rest. He just wasn’t sure he could make it there. Being on a gate team had resulted in Rodney being in the best shape of his life, but even so, he was not on par with the rest of his team. Ronon and John ran for  _fun_ , and Teyla was just as active. Rodney could run long distances without stopping - especially when motivated by possible death - but only if he could rest after. There was no time to rest though, not here.  
  
"You going to make it?" John knelt beside him. He looked at Rodney, assessing, and Rodney tried to look as though he were up to the challenge. From the look on John's face, he didn't succeed.  
  
"I can make it," Rodney said, then added, "but only if we take it easy."  
  
"We should steal you a horse," Ronon mused. Rodney had never ridden a horse in his life, but anything had to be better than trying to keep up with these three. "I could go into town and get one."  
  
Teyla shook her head. "I do not think it wise to appear in the city so soon after entering the castle. Surely Calgon will send guards there to search." Rodney grimaced.  
  
The sooner they got out of this game, the sooner Rodney could get his ZPM and sleep in his own bed. He forged ahead.  
  
"We should head northeast - the kid is being held at Calgon's villa. If we follow the stream located in these woods somewhere, it should only take a day or two of walking," Rodney suggested.  
  
"At the very least we should try locating the river," John said. He was staring off into the woods.  
  
"Getting dark," Ronon rumbled. The shadows lengthened, the sky turned a deep pink and orange; deep in the woods as they were, the light barely made it through the tight press of trees. Rodney's stomach rumbled.  
  
"I agree with John," Teyla said finally. "We will locate the river and camp nearby. Tomorrow we will set out for Calgon's villa."  
  
"Great!" Rodney said with false cheer. "But before that, can someone help me up?"

* * *

  
  
They headed northeast with Ronon in the lead, as he had the best hearing. It wasn't long until he led the group to a pleasant little stream, the sound of water soothing. Rodney wanted to stop the moment they found it, but his teammates insisted they continue until they find a suitable place to hunker down. By the time they found a place all three agreed upon, Rodney was stumbling, exhaustion making him clumsy. John stayed close, the better to lend a helping hand when Rodney tripped. The temperature dropped just low enough to be chilly as the sun sank; Rodney eagerly went about starting their campfire. He draped his cloak close enough to the fire to feel its warmth and settled in with a happy sigh, pleased at the idea of several hours without having to move.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney spotted John smiling at him, and that made him almost as warm as the fire itself. When they got back to Atlantis, they were going to have to do something about the...the  _stuff_  between them. Talking about emotions was not a forte for either of them, but actions speak louder than words (so they say), and Rodney has had many thoughts about the sort of things he and John can get up to together.  
  
Everyone was startled when Marus appeared, looking pleased.  
  
"You have done well," he praised. Rodney glanced at his team, feeling smug, and was surprised to find words floating above their heads. Strength: +8, agility: +8, stealth +3, Rodney read. These must be the experience points Marus had mentioned. He tilted his head back to see what was hovering above him. The angle was bad, but he could just make out: Strength: +5, stealth +3, agility +3, and intelligence +8. He smiled. It was only right that he see an increase in his intelligence points. Interestingly enough, with the level upgrades, he felt refreshed and energized.  
  
"I found a potions recipe," Rodney remembered out loud. Ronon looked uninterested, but Teyla smiled at him. Marus stood back, watching them.  "It's for creating a more efficient healing potion."  
  
"Are the ingredients difficult to locate?" she asked, settling in across from him, on the other side of the fire. Rodney fumbled for the piece of paper, crumpling it somewhat as he pulled it from his pocket. He smoothed it out against his kneed and hunched over, peering down at it. Now that it was darker, he was entirely reliant on the fire.  
  
Squinting, he informed his team, "It seems to require a new type of herb, but it's essentially the same recipe. You simply combine the two previous herbs we were collecting, mix them with this new herb, and...that's it.  Everything else is the same."  
  
"Is this new herb difficult to find?" Teyla asked, turning to Marus - but the man was gone, leaving no sign he'd ever been there. The group was silent for a moment, the crackle of the fire the only noise. Teyla sighed and turned back to Rodney, looking at him expectantly. As the person responsible for creating the potions, it'd be his job to keep an eye out for ingredients. Rodney wanted to protest, but the alternative was asking one of the experienced fighters on his team to look for plants instead of keeping an eye out for danger.  
  
"The descriptions for the herbs are simple - 'red herb', 'green herb', and now 'blue herb.' I've seen red and green growing along the road and in patches here and there in the forest. The blue herb...I don't recall seeing at all, which makes me think we'll would be a bit more difficult to find."  
  
"A red herb?" John asked dubiously, furrowing his brow. So often red meant bad in their culture, Rodney could understand his hesitance. Still, Rodney was hurt John would doubt him.  
  
"It refers to the color of the leaves, Colonel," Rodney said confidently. "Look, I've used the simple healing potions on all of you already, and they worked just fine. I haven't killed you."  
  
"Yet," Ronon said. Rodney glared, affronted.  
  
"If you don't trust me, you don't have to take the potion."  
  
"I won't," Ronon said. "I'm not gonna need it."  
  
Rodney made a derisive noise and opened his mouth to respond, but Teyla cut him off. "Gentlemen. Perhaps we should focus instead on eating our evening meal?"  
  
John passed around chunks of bread and cheese, shrugging when Rodney wanted to know if that was it. They hadn't had the money to buy much while in town and had sacrificed purchasing meat in order to buy more bread and cheese. Rodney took his hungrily, ripping off large chunks and stuffing them into his mouth. He eyed John's plate, which was being cleaned in a much more leisurely fashion, and hoped John became full before finishing.  
  
"Tomorrow I've got to look for potion ingredients," Rodney said, mouth full. Teyla and John winced at the sight, but Rodney didn't notice.  
  
"I shall help you," Teyla said. "We can gather sufficient amount faster that way." Rodney was grateful for the help - walking around pulling weeds all day would be hell on his back as it was.  
  
"Gonna hunt for food," Ronon said. As John and Ronon began to discuss what to hunt (small animals, which could be eaten in one meal so they wouldn't have to carry heavy amounts of meat that would likely spoil before they got to it), Rodney felt the day's events begin to take their toll. It felt like several days worth of activities had been crammed into one day, and Rodney wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep. His head dipped, his chin pressing against his chest, his eyes slipping closed. He barely noticed when the piece of cloth he'd been using as a plate was removed from his lap. Rodney was eased sideways by strong hands, leaned against a warm chest; he rested there for a moment before the person eased out from under him, gently lowering him to the ground.  
  
"Sleep, Rodney," John said, "We'll wake you when it's your turn to keep watch."  
  
With that, Rodney slept. **  
  
**

* * *

**_  
  
_**Rodney slept deeply, despite the lack of lumbar support and everything else that goes with sleeping outdoors. His turn to take watch went off without a hitch, though Rodney felt the day’s activities in his heavy limbs and had to fight to stay awake. When his watch was over, he stumbled back to bed and fell asleep immediately, to strange dreams of heavy breathing and running set to the Mario theme song. He woke to his face pressed against something warm. Blearily lifting his head, he was surprised to find he'd rolled over in the night to the very edge of his cloak, face mashed up against John's thigh. Rodney rolled away, mumbling apologies, and wondered how he would wake up without his morning cups of coffee. The game simulation felt very life like in most respects - injuries a notable exception, thankfully - but this also meant the potential for caffeine withdrawal.  
  
"Morning, McKay," John drawled, his mustache rustling. Rodney lamented the inability to change your appearance; Rodney had attempted to leave his cross necklace on the ground, but found it later inside his pocket. Several hours later, he'd leaned over to get a drink from a spring and was startled when the necklace swung forward and into the water. If he couldn't get rid of the necklace, John couldn't shave his mustache.  
  
"Hmph," Rodney responded and took to staring at nothing as he fought to fully awaken. He wasn't sure how long he sat there before Ronon splashed him with cold water, but he found himself wide awake as Ronon laughed. Rodney gave serious thought about retaliation, but without technology Ronon had an unfair advantage.  
  
"See if I heal you when you need it!" Rodney grumped, but Ronon didn't look at all worried.  
  
Breakfast was more bread; they'd finished the cheese off the night before, and John and Ronon hadn't gone hunting yet. As Rodney ate, he thought about hot coffee and the almost-eggs the mess served, the nearly bacon, and the chocolate Rodney had stashed in his desk. He knew that game time and real time weren't the same; nobody will have noticed them missing just yet. But it felt like it had been hours since he'd eaten anything more than bread, and his stomach grumbled unhappily when he finished his.  
  
"Have the rest of mine," John offered, frowning as he brushed crumbs from his mustache. Rodney hesitated, uncertain.  
  
"Won't you need it? For strength?"  
  
"Nah," John drawled. "Besides, Ronon and I are going hunting. I'll eat more then."  
  
As Rodney tore a chunk of bread off with his teeth, Teyla rested a hand on his shoulder. "We should think about beginning our search for ingredients, as well."  
  
"Right," Rodney said, the words coming out garbled due to the food in his mouth. Used to the sight by now, Teyla simply stood and offered her teammate a hand. He cast one backward glance at Ronon and John heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

  
  
Rodney wanted to find at least one blue herb for each of them, and if possible, an extra one for Suicidal Sheppard. But as he and Teyla searched the area for any of the new herbs, finding even one was looking to be impossible.  
  
"We must not lose hope," Teyla said again.  
  
"Right, lots of hope," Rodney said morosely.  
  
"Perhaps we should try the other side of the stream near camp," she suggested. It was a better idea than Rodney had (giving up and sticking with the regular herbs) so he followed her willingly enough. He made her wait as he pulled his boots off, however, unwilling to trust their ability to keep water out. Nothing sucked as much as having wet footwear. Rodney trusted Teyla's sense of direction, so he made no protest as she led him deeper into the woods.  
  
Rodney's frustration was growing. They'd been searching for some time and had found nothing, and Rodney wasn't meant for nature walks. He tripped over branches, stumbled into holes, and scratched himself on a prickly bush. He opened his mouth to suggest they go home when there was a noise from the brush: a rustling and a peep. Rodney spun, forgetting for a moment that he no longer had a gun, hands going instinctively to his right thigh. Teyla stepped up beside him, sword drawn and held steady, looking poised and dangerous. Rodney pulled his sword out with a yank, holding it with far less grace and steadiness than Teyla. They waited, Rodney holding his breath, Teyla breathing deep and even.  
  
The thing in the bush whistled. Rodney tensed.  
  
A tiny head popped out of the bush, turning so one of its bright eyes could peer up at them. Rodney stared and the bird stared back. Teyla chuckled, lowering her sword and stepping back. Rodney breathed out a quiet breath of relief. He fumbled his sword back into its scabbard and moved to rejoin Teyla, who had continued the search. He glanced back when he heard more rustling, however, and was surprised to find the bird had left the bush in favor of following him.  
  
"Shoo!" Rodney said, flapping his hands.  
  
"Bob white," whistled the bird slowly, it's pitch rising toward the end.  
  
"Go away," Rodney told it firmly. It didn't seem inclined to listen. Instead it moved closer, tilting its head to peer up at him. It peeped at him, a tiny noise, and ruffled its feathers.  
  
"You're annoying," Rodney told it, "and unwanted. Go. Away."  
  
"Bob white," the thing whistled again, and Rodney threw his hands up. It would grow bored and wander off, Rodney hoped. He turned and stomped through the grass, cursing plants and animals and everything that wasn't a temperature-controlled lab. Teyla was far ahead, though still within sight, so Rodney wandered the area, keeping an eye out for anything blue in color.  
  
"Bob white," the bird said  _again_. Rodney ignored it, instead peering down at a blue flower. Rodney suspected the blue herb would look just like the red and green, the only difference of appearance being the color. This was pretty but definitely not what they were looking for. He left it with a sigh.  
  
"I hope Sheppard and Ronon are having more luck," he commented out loud. There was no response, not even a peep. He continued the search.

* * *

  
  
Even Teyla was beginning to lose hope. Several hours had gone by and they had nothing to show for it; at this point, Rodney seriously doubted the blue herb was even worth it. The team had suffered only minor injuries so far, they might not even  _need_  an extra strength potion. He'd just have to gather a larger amount of green and red. Rodney had kept the small glass vials he'd purchased in town filled with healing potion in a crude cloth bag Teyla and Ronon had fashioned. He treated the bag with as much care as he treated his laptop case - like the contents were infinitely precious and valuable.  
  
Perhaps it was a good thing Rodney had been chosen for this. Ronon would have been too rough, and in a fight, Teyla and John wouldn't think to keep the bag safe.  
  
"I believe we should return to camp," Teyla said. He'd been following her for hours. Rodney couldn't agree fast enough. His stomach had been fiercely protesting the lack of food and his back was protesting all the bending over. Without the need to inspect every bush, they could hurry back to camp in no time at all. They turned around, making their way back, and Rodney swore he could already smell the roasting meat of whatever their other teammates had caught.  
  
"Bob white," said that bird.  
  
"Your friend has stuck around, it seems," Teyla said, smiling at him. She bumped him with her shoulder, as she had seen John do many times, and Rodney smiled back despite his grouchy state. He and Teyla didn't spend much time alone together, but he had to admit it hadn't been too terrible. There was just something so peaceful about Teyla.  
  
"Bob white," said the bird again, followed by a loud peep. It was being quite loud and Rodney paused, wondering if it had found trouble. He shook his head, snorting at himself worrying over a fictional bird.  
  
"Rodney," Teyla said, gripping his arm. She dragged him toward the racket, Rodney stumbling along. When he finally took notice of what had caught her attention, he froze. The bird had found what they were looking for, tucked behind a large rock overshadowed by the looming, old tree nearby. The clump of blue herbs were tucked close to the rock, making it difficult to spot unless you walked right by it. Rodney had missed it as he had first walked by, and Teyla had not gone past this particular area.  
  
"Oh," he said.  
  
Teyla beamed.  
  
"Peep!" went the bird.

* * *

  
  
"What is  _that_?" John asked, staring beyond Rodney. When he turned, it was to find that bird walking quickly through the grass towards the group, its bright eyes fixed on Rodney.  
  
"That is Rodney's friend," Teyla said, and Rodney could hear the smile in her voice. He was watching the bird navigate its way over the stream by rock, fluttering its wings once it reached the other side, and moving immediately in Rodney's direction.  
  
"Looks like good eating," Ronon said, and without thinking Rodney stepped between Ronon and the advancing bird. He flushed as they stared, but it  _had_  helped them find the blue herbs, and rewarding it with death was hardly fair. Rodney raised his chin defiantly, though a flush spread over his nose and down his cheeks.  
  
"Bob white!" went the bird at Rodney's feet. Ronon rolled his eyes and went about skinning the rabbit-like animals he had gripped in one massive hand. Rodney sent John a preemptive glare. John's mustache twitched from amusement, but he gamely joined Ronon. Ronon said something to him and they both laughed. Rodney opened his mouth to say something blistering that would surely put them in their place when John turned and gave Rodney a fond smile. He grumbled to himself instead.  
  
"Let us prepare the potions," Teyla suggested, watching them all, still smiling. They set up near the stream, since they'd need the water. The bird, which Rodney had taken to calling Bob, followed. He watched them with interest. Green herbs healed wounds the least; they were best for scrapes and bruises. Combining it with red, however, worked even better, creating a thick potion the color and consistency of honey. Rodney did his best not to contemplate how the herbs worked, since they adhered to video game logic, which was barely logic at all. He set some of the honey-colored mixture aside; they didn't have enough blue herbs to go in every potion. Instead, he made four healing potions with the blue, using up what little stash they had, double checking each step with the instructions written in the stolen recipe. These resulted in a deep, vibrant blue that was astonishingly pretty.  
  
"The color matches the description," Teyla said, brushing her fingers over the recipe instructions.  
  
"We did it," Rodney said smugly. They shared a grin, Bob peeping triumphantly between them.  
  
John and Ronon had been making good time as well; by the time Teyla and Rodney finished carefully packing the vials away, they had the almost rabbit speared and ready to roast. Rodney's stomach rumbled, reminding him of his hunger, as the smell of the cooking meat filled the area.  
  
"You're drooling," John said. Rodney didn't even care, rubbing the drool away with the back of his hand. Like John was one to talk anyway; he may not be drooling, but he avidly watched the food cook, almost vibrating where he sat. When Ronon deemed it finished, he carefully took it off the fire and they were each handed their own plateful. Rodney had initially been doubtful that he could finish the entire thing, but as he began to eat, the meat disappeared quickly, and soon he was licking his fingers clean, making happy humming noises.  
  
It was a couple hours after lunch now, much later than they had wanted to stick around. Their urgency was born out of a desire to exit the game and get their hands on the miniature ZPMs, not due to some in-game sense of timing. By the time they were ready to go, Rodney was feeling pleasantly full. At this point, all that was left was for them to save the kidnapped Prince and return him to his father. Rodney could almost feel the cool, pointed edges of the ZPM under his fingers.

* * *

  
  
Rodney had never been a big fan of walking, even when it was just from the stargate to a nearby village. Unfortunately, they had no other means of travel; their desire to leave the game as quickly as possible meant that none of them felt like doing side quests to earn money to buy horses and a wooden cart. The good mood Rodney had been in after eating his first hot meal in what felt like forever didn't last long, as his feet and legs began to protest the long walk. The little breaks the team took for him to rest didn't help much; they generally pushed on just as Rodney's feet were beginning to ache less. Rodney was in the best shape of his life, but he was still used to sitting for much of the day, if only at a negotiation table.  
  
"We shall camp here for the night," Teyla declared after an eternity, after Rodney's feet had begun to hurt, went numb, and started to hurt all over again. He collapsed where he stood, tossing his cloak aside, feeling sweat trickle down his back. Fumbling, he pulled his homemade canteen and gulped what water was left greedily, trickles of it sliding down his flushed cheeks, tickling his ears.  
  
"There's a pool of water not too far away," Ronon said. "Has a stream leading in and out of it, keeping it fresh."  
  
"I suggest we take this opportunity to refill our canteens and clean ourselves," Teyla suggested, which was met with much approval. The cold water would feel so good. Because they were gentlemen, they let Teyla bathe first, and went about setting up camp. Rodney was too tired to do much but spread his cloak out and slip out of his boots. He loosened the collar of his clothing and sighed with relief, wiggling his toes in the dirt. Bob settled in next to him; to Rodney, he looked just as tired. He watched Ronon and John gather sticks from the surrounding area. The two were discussing something quietly, and then Ronon handed his armful of sticks and pieces of wood to John and tromped off into the forest - heading away from the pool of water where Teyla was bathing.  
  
"Where's he going?" Rodney asked.  
  
"Hunting for more food," John said. "We're almost out of bread and it'd be nice to have something to go with it."  
  
"Mmm," Rodney agreed. He wiggled his toes again. He and John fell into a companionable silence, John positioning the sticks for burning, Rodney watching him idly. He was growing rather fond of John's mustache, ridiculous though it may be. Like most things - silly hats given by aliens, ritual robes of ugly colors - John somehow made it work for him, managing to look dashing and dorky at the same time. It was completely unfair and so very John.  
  
The fire started slowly. John settled in beside Rodney, shoulder to shoulder. They watched the dry leaves burn first, spreading to the wood, the fire growing stronger. Rodney tilted sideways until he was pressed against John. It was quiet but for the crackling of the fire and the background noise of the crickets. If camping was always like this, Rodney thought, then he wouldn't mind going so much.  
  
Provided they had better food. And coffee.  
  
Bob settled against Rodney's hip, appearing completely unafraid of humans. Rodney was feeling too relaxed and comfortable to get very riled up at the idea of an alien bird becoming attached to him. He left Bob as he was, happy to lean against John and watch the fire, soak up the warmth. Rodney wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard footsteps and felt John tense. Rodney lifted his head, blinking sleepily around the clearing and was very relieved when Teyla stepped into view, a wide smiling curling her lips.  
  
"You look most comfortable," she said, and Rodney jerked upright, face burning. Beside him, Bob ruffled his feathers with Rodney took to be affront and moved away. When he snuck a glance at John, Rodney found him carefully not looking at anybody, and Rodney would swear his ears were pink.  
  
"How was the water?" Rodney asked, eager to change the subject.  
  
"It was very refreshing," Teyla said.  
  
"Good, good," Rodney replied, already imagining the cool water against his skin. Nothing sounded better than washing up at the moment. The heavy clothing he wore made him sweat and Rodney had been thinking fondly of the warm showers on Atlantis for some time now. Though it had only been a couple days in the game, it felt like forever since he'd last cleaned up. Rodney got to his feet clumsily, unwilling to wait for Ronon to return to take his turn in the water.

"In a hurry?" John asks, amused.  
  
"Water!" Rodney says. "A bath, oh god, being  _clean._ " It was like his body had gone into overdrive; he could feel the dried sweat on his back, his skin itching suddenly. When they reached the area with the stream-fed pond, Rodney wanted to weep with joy. He carelessly flung his clothes about as he stripped, uncaring for once about being naked in front of someone he was not sleeping with (yet, hopefully). He heard John's soft laughter behind him, but didn't stop his determined approach.  
  
Diving in was heaven, the water immediately cooling and cleansing him. He stayed under as long as he could before heading for air, breaking the surface with a gasp. He grinned widely at John, who was watching him, shirt in hand.  
  
"I am never leaving," Rodney declared, splashing about. He dove back under, content to swim around. While he missed the indoor showers provided by Atlantis, this would do in a pinch. Rodney instantly cheered up, and when he popped up out of the water, he couldn't help but beam at John, who was in the water with him. John's hair was wet, though it refused to lay flat, and Rodney wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch Sheppard's ridiculous mustache too, but most of all, he wanted to splash John.  
  
So he did.

John sputtered when the wave of water splashed his face, taken by surprise. Rodney laughed at John's wet, dripping mustache and annoyed expression. He saw the retaliation coming and twisted to avoid being splashed in the face, the water falling upon his back instead. He hadn't expected John to go after him, the warmth of his chest pressing against Rodney's back, his hands on Rodney's head, attempting to dunk him. Rodney fought him off as best he could, though he was hampered by laughter. John was laughing too, however, and that was making his attempts to dunk Rodney more difficult than it would normally be.  
  
After a while they calmed and drifted away, floating on their backs, content to just soak in the water and relax. Rodney might have normally worried about what sort of microorganisms lived in the water, but since none of this was real anyway, he felt safe enough to relax. Rodney felt himself bump into John and turned his head to apologize. John was looking at him, the dark hair of his mustache making Rodney's lips twitch. Their eyes met, and Rodney knew if this were a movie there would be ridiculous music and long stares. But life wasn't a movie, so Rodney leaned in and pressed his lips against John's cool, wet ones, and though there were no fireworks, he felt something inside him twist nonetheless.  
  
John's mustache tickled.  
  
They separated, grinning at each other like sappy fools. For a moment, Rodney didn't care about Ancient VR games and miniature ZPMs; it was just him and John and cool, clear water. John reached out with prune-y fingers to brush along the length of his bottom lip, Rodney playfully catching it between his teeth. They were naked, alone, and relatively safe for the moment - Rodney wanted nothing more than to take advantage.  
  
The sound of approaching footsteps reminded Rodney of why it was a bad idea, however. He and John stood, John positioning himself in front of Rodney. His dark, wet hair was a nice contrast to his pale, moonlit skin; Rodney felt kind of ridiculous noticing that at all. It was hard to stop looking at him though - Rodney had wanted him for so long. He slid closer, though their skin didn't touch, and held his breath, hoping it was Ronon coming this way and not a guard or hunter.  
  
It  _was_  Ronon, which Rodney greeted with a relieved sigh. He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his heart pound.  
  
"You gonna be much longer?" Ronon asked.  
  
"We're almost done," John assured him, moving toward the edge of the water, near where their teammate was standing. "You should come in, the water's fine."  
  
Ronon shook his head, long hair sliding over his shoulders. "Shouldn't leave Teyla alone for too long."  
  
John looked abashed. "Good point. Even if she can handle herself, none of us should be alone." He turned to look at Rodney, a small, apologetic smile curling his full lips.  
  
"Sorry, buddy. Raincheck, all right?"   
  
Rodney opened his mouth to protest but John was already gracefully climbing out. His mouth hung open as he took in John's long, lean form, staring openly as John slipped back into his clothing. Rodney was filled with impatience; he wanted this mission done  _now_ , with miniature ZPM studied and put to good use. He wanted to be in his room, or John's room, or a random storage closet, he wasn't picky, but he wanted to be there with John, full of dirty intentions. Rodney had so many things he wanted to do to John, for John to do to him - the possibilities were overwhelming.  
  
"You're drooling," Ronon told Rodney. He snapped his mouth shut, blinking. By that time John was already gone.

* * *

  
  
The rest of the night was spent quietly, the team eating their food and musing idly on what tomorrow would bring. Rodney was doing his best not to dwell; they were essentially storming a castle. With only four people, it sounded like the height of stupidity to him. Thinking about it only made a knot of worry form in his stomach, however, which wasn't conducive at all to sleeping.  
  
When they went to bed, Bob curled warmly against his back. Waiting until the others had settled in, Rodney stretched his arm out toward John, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of John's cloak.

* * *

  
  
The trip to the castle was uneventful. The weather was perfect and they ran into no one. They walked parallel to the winding dirt road that led to their destination, ducking behind bushes to avoid detection. Bob followed behind, though his presence never seemed to draw the interest of anyone passing by. Rodney had tried to shoo him off again, but the damn bird only cocked its head and stared at him. Rodney had taken to pretending he wasn't there (and most definitely never slowed down to allow the bird to catch up) and had begun planning revenge for John and Ronon's laughter.  
  
Rodney wasn't sure if his feet were numb from all the walking or if he was finally adjusting, but either way they pained him less. Not that it kept him from complaining - about the walk, sleeping on the ground, being forced to wear a cross, and whatever else came to mind. Despite the approaching idiocy of storming a castle, Rodney was in a cheerful mood, one that seemed to be shared by his teammates. They still had quite a bit of work ahead of them, but they were approaching the end of this ridiculous game, and everyone was looking forward to sleeping in their soft beds.  
  
When they finally reached the place where the kid was being held, they stopped at the edge of the forest, taking in the high towers and guards, dressed in dark, heavy clothes, with stupid red feathers in their hats. Sneaking in seemed impossible to Rodney's only slightly experienced eye. Fighting their way in seemed unspeakably dangerous, and he felt his palms grow damp with nerves.  
  
"Perhaps it's best if I stay behind," Rodney suggested weakly.  
  
"We need every fighter," Teyla said, looking at Rodney sympathetically.  
  
"Right, yes, but you could hardly call me a fighter, could you? I'll only get in the way, slow you down -"  
  
"I don't like the idea of splitting up the team," John said, cutting Rodney off. He met Rodney's eyes, his own serious and intense. "We're not leaving you behind."  
  
"I'm not all that fond of pain," Rodney said, as though they didn't know.  
  
"We got your back," Ronon said, and that would be very comforting except for the overwhelming odds stacked against them. Rodney appreciated the sentiment, however. Still, going in with just swords and some herbs sounded like madness, and despite his science-driven nature, Rodney half-wished this was the sort of game with magic. He stared at the courtyard filled with guards going about their daily business, hauling large sacks of things, rolling barrels full of what Rodney presumed was alcohol, practicing their sword fighting...  
  
Rodney furrowed his brow. "Huh."  
  
"What is it?" John asked instantly, knowing that 'huh' meant Rodney had an idea forming. He pressed close, drawing Rodney's attention away from where he'd been staring.  
  
Rodney glanced at his team, gaze settling on John, who would have the best understanding of Rodney's idea.  
  
"Do you know the ingredients for a Molotov cocktail?"

* * *

  
  
"This is stupid," Rodney muttered.  
  
No one responded.  
  
"I'm going to die," he continued. He's pretty sure he saw Ronon roll his eyes. They were waiting for night to fall before beginning their attack, hoping the darkness would confuse the guards, perhaps tricking them into thinking there was a larger invading force than there actually was. Once Rodney started setting things on fire, the confusion would grow - hopefully, that is. That was the plan, anyway. Molotov cocktails weren't all that difficult to make and the task had been given to Rodney. The others would fight with swords, Rodney would set things on fire, and they would all hope they made it out alive.  
  
Rodney reminded himself,  _again_ , that this was just a game.  
  
"We should go now," Teyla said firmly, and the three of them slipped from among the trees and approached the castle. Rodney paused a moment to sternly tell Bob to stay and then he followed with great reluctance. For once, it seemed the bird was listening. They took the guards by surprise; John, Ronon, and Teyla each took out two people before the shouting began. Rodney was separate from the group, edging along the wall, watching as his team parried and thrust, the three of them circling around each other, never moving too far apart. So far he had gone unnoticed and he forced himself to take a deep breath. He slipped into what he figured was the kitchen, feeling pleased when the food laid out on the tables confirmed his guess. He needed glass bottles, but most of what he saw before him was wooden mugs. Feeling nervous, but hoping the VR game would provide him with what he needed, Rodney began to open random cupboards, frantically searching. Outside, the sounds of fighting continued: the clang of metal on metal, grunts and yells, and groans of the injured. Rodney fervently hoped none of the injuries were of his teammates; he carried the herbs with him.  
  
Finally finding what he was looking for in a small cupboard, he pulled out as many glass bottles as he could carry, setting them down on the table. Several tipped over and rolled, though he thankfully caught them before they rolled right over the edge. Body tense, heart pounding, sweat breaking out over his face, Rodney sloppily filled each bottle with the rough alcohol. Ripping up several dirty rags, he poured the rest of the alcohol over them and shakily shoved them in, the tops of the rags trailing out of the bottle. A fire crackled merrily in a corner, with a large pot of what Rodney assumed to be stew hanging over it. It smelled good, and any other time Rodney would be wishing for a taste, but with the sound of fighting still filtering in from outside, Rodney didn't dare pause. He carried two of the bottles over and lit them, the strong alcohol immediately catching fire. It burned quicker than he expected, so he hurried outside. Rodney took careful aim and threw them at two of the large bales of hay sitting out for the horses. The resulting was bright, the fire catching and spreading.  
  
Rodney hurried back inside and lit the rest. This time, despite his heart in his throat and his stomach twisting with disgust, he threw them at the groups of guards surrounding his team. They scattered, some of them spotting Rodney and beginning to advance toward him. Rodney fumbled to get his sword out, ignoring how it trembled along with the shaking of his hands, and Rodney hurried to join his team. He clumsily parried two attacks, his breath coming out in gasps, and Rodney had never been so afraid in his life, the fear barely calming when he joined the rest of his team. They formed a circle, backs to one another, and faced off against the ridiculously feathered guards.

Feeling woefully inadequate beside John and Teyla, he fought hard to keep the guards back until one of them could finish them off. Rodney was secure in his place on the team. He was a valuable member of AR-1 and had saved his team - and the entire city - countless times. But in situations like these, Rodney was aware he was only a burden. Rodney kept the thought that all this danger and effort was for a ZPM, and that kept him moving.  
  
The team fought back the guards, taking them out one by one, the light of the fires Rodney set glinting off the metal of the swords. Ronon was grinning fiercely, looking very much the barbarian, and John's lips were pulled back in a snarl, his brow furrowed in concentration. Ronon and Teyla made taking the guards out easy, John less so, and despite being surrounded at one point, it looked like they were going to make it out just fine.

Rodney knew better than to think such things. He knew better because the universe never let up on Rodney or his team. Rodney was turning to continue fending off the attacks of a guard when he felt a sharp, intense sting in his side. He gasped, automatically glancing down to see, and was surprised at the rapidly spreading stain of blood. He stumbled sideways, coming dangerously close to bumping into John, and tried to keep his breaths deep and even; it would do no good to hyperventilate in addition to his injury. It didn't even hurt all that much; the pain was muffled, stinging enough to make his breathing uneven, but not enough to hinder his movements.  
  
"Rodney," John said, gripping his upper arm too tightly. The worry in his voice ramped up Rodney's fear and he fought a full blown panic attack. With all his focus on his injury, he had completely forgotten about the herbs he and Teyla had picked, that he had so meticulously turned into treatment for wounds. He scrambled to get his bag, to pull out some herbs, but his fingers were clumsy and didn't seem to do what he wanted them to. The bag was gently taken from him, the hands holding it deftly opening it and withdrawing one of the vials full of medicine. Rodney leaned into John, who carefully supported his weight, while Ronon hovered nearby, keeping an eye out for more guards.  
  
"Breathe," John instructed him, voice tight. Rodney gave a jerky nod and did his best to slow and deepen his breathing. If Rodney was clutching John's arm too tightly, he wasn't saying.

“The wound is not too severe, Rodney,” Teyla said in what he was sure she meant to be a soothing manner. But the fact that he had been stabbed with a sword and was _bleeding,_ meant that calm wasn’t an easy state for Rodney to achieve. The pain never grew worse, but Rodney continued to bleed, and by the time Teyla had pulled out one of the strong herbal mixtures, the blood had soaked through the heavy material of his clothes. She held the vial against Rodney's lips and carefully tipped it. He grimaced at the taste but gamely drank it all, his face scrunched with displeasure. Teyla stood to join Ronon in standing guard while John hovered, brow furrowed with concern.  
  
"I'm fine," Rodney said. The pain was fading, and though Rodney couldn't tell if the wound had stopped bleeding, the lack of pain could only mean good things.  
  
"I should have -" John started, but Rodney was in no mood to indulge John Sheppard's guilt complex.  
  
"Don't be stupid!" he interrupted. "You were busy fending off your own attacks. Quite frankly, I'm surprised it took this long. One of the three musketeers I am not."  
  
John snorted and they paused a moment to enjoy the shared amusement. The pain had all but faded now, so Rodney carefully got to his feet, using John's body as a means of assistance. He stood for a moment to see if he'd experience a dizzy spell, but when time passed and there was nothing, he nodded at John and they joined their teammates.  
  
"Gotta find the kid," Ronon said.  
  
"The map you saw did not give his exact location?" Teyla asked, looking Rodney over carefully. He ignored that and shook his head.  
  
"No. But since this is a game, he's probably in the highest tower, in a locked room."  
  
"Let us hope so," Teyla said grimly.  
  
Expecting more guards to show up any minute, the team went into the castle through the kitchen where Rodney had made his molotov cocktails - the evidence of which was still merrily burning. The kitchen staff was still missing and the corridor directly off the room was empty. It made Rodney nervous.  
  
"Do you think this is the type of game were killing the bad guys just spawns more bad guys?" Rodney asked.  
  
"Don't even think about that," John said, voice tight.  
  
"Right," Rodney said, nodding. This game  _was_  Ancient, after all. Thinking may make it so.  
When they ran into resistance it was something of a relief. The tension of waiting for the next fight had Rodney close to snapping. Seeing the gleaming swords and feeling the wet clothing stick to his side made Rodney flinch back, any courage he may have had was long gone. It made no difference; the team made quick work, deftly taking down any guard before they could reach Rodney. He felt a flash of guilt and a heavy dose of uselessness and tried to tell himself that jumping into a fight would only slow his team down. It didn't help much.  
  
When they finally found the winding stone staircase that would take them to the highest room in the tallest tower, Rodney's breathing was slightly labored. The rest of the team looked somewhat worse off; not only had they been running through the castle to find the kid, they were fighting off the guards and protecting Rodney. He longed for a piece of technology, something that he could bend to his will so he could contribute to his team’s efforts. There was nothing there, however.  
  
Ronon took point, taking the stairs surprisingly slow. He stuck close to the inner wall, sword held aloft. Rodney was right behind him, with Teyla and John protecting the team from behind. At the top was a plain wooden door with a brass handle. Rodney came very close to praying that this was the right room, that behind the door was the King's kid and this ridiculous quest could be over with. Ronon didn't even hesitate, rushing up the stairs and through the door, mouth pulled back in a snarl, body ready for a fight. Rodney entered more cautiously, certain there would be guards lurking near the door. He was relieved when he made it into the room to find Ronon looming over a thin, reedy boy with a straw-colored hair - presumably the Prince. He was staring at Ronon in terror, pressed against the wooden wall, looking ready to faint.  
  
"Do not be alarmed," Teyla said soothingly, returning her sword to its sheath smoothly. "We are here to return you to your father."  
  
"I do not recognize you," the boy said. "You're not my father's men."  
  
Teyla's hesitation was so brief only someone who knew her would notice. "We were hired specifically to retrieve you."  
  
The boy was moving closer, going around Ronon with much room to spare. He stared at Teyla, looking hopeful and impossibly young. Rodney wondered who the Prince was modeled after; a young Ancient, too young to have learned how to present himself as the other Ancients did? Teyla smiled at the kid, looking beautiful and trustworthy.  
  
"We do not have time to stay here for much longer," Teyla said. "You must choose whether to come with us or stay here."  
  
"I'll go!" the boy said frantically, the fear of staying overcoming his fear of strangers. "You can't leave me here."  
  
"Don't plan to," Ronon said, already making for the door. The boy - Rodney could not for the life of him remember the kid's name - watched him nervously, hands nervously pulling at a loose thread on his clothes. A hand on his shoulder had him turning away from Teyla coaxing the boy to follow closely; John jerked his head toward the door and Rodney followed him out of the room, with a single glance back. Teyla was resting her hand on the boy's shoulder, guiding him along.  
  
They were on their way.

* * *

  
  
Of course, getting out of the castle couldn't be easy. They were gathered in one of the outer corridors of the building, a wooden railing was all there was between them and a long fall. They stared down at the courtyard, full of guards covering the exit. Rodney absently rubbed his side as the guard's swords shone from the fire light. It didn't hurt anymore, though his clothing was still wet with blood. He didn't know how they were going to make it through all those people, not with Rodney and the kid. They could try to find another exit but the building they were standing in was huge and there was a very good chance it would be just as heavily guarded.  
  
"Any ideas? Because I have none," Rodney said. Nobody spoke.  
  
"Gotta fight our way through," Ronon finally responded. "No other way."  
  
"I agree. If we attempt to search for an unprotected exit, we will surely be caught. It is best to fight our way through and return this child to his father," Teyla said.  
  
"I'm not a child," the kid protested. He was  _pouting_ , Rodney noticed, arms folded petulantly across his chest. He had a ridiculous bowl cut and round cheeks; the effect could not have been less adult-like. As annoying as the kid was proving to be, the fear in his eyes had sympathy stirring in Rodney's chest.  
  
"I apologize if I offended you," Teyla replied patiently, though her eyes never left the large group of guards down below.  
  
The boy sniffed snottily. "Apology accepted."  
  
They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the courtyard below. Rodney had used up what he could find for molotov cocktails, but perhaps if he found a way to spread the fire? Though that would put his team in as much danger as the guards, since fires were unpredictable. If only they had their P90's...  
  
"I have a plan," Teyla said calmly. She was no longer looking down at the courtyard, but instead to the right, at another section of the building. Rodney followed her gaze but found nothing that looked of use. He glanced back at Teyla, wondering what she was thinking, and saw a frankly scary gleam in her eyes. She turned to Ronon.  
  
"You must quickly make your way down to the courtyard," she said. "I will be making a surprise attack that should give me some time to bring the number of guards down. It will focus them on me, giving you time to get the prince to safety."  
  
"It'd have to be pretty surprising," Rodney commented. Surprise would only freeze them to the spot for so long before instinct and training kicked in. Then again, this was Teyla, who was fast and deft and absolutely deadly when necessary. If anyone could bring down a number of stunned guards, it'd be her.  
  
"It will be," she said, quietly confident. Rodney was getting a bad feeling, which only grew worse when she made her way to the section she had been staring at. Panic tightened his chest when she reached out and grabbed hold of a long piece of rope tied to the roof. The rope was long, long enough to reach the ground; Rodney imagined it was used to lift things from ground floor to the upper levels of the building, including the roof.  
  
" _Teyla_ ," John said, brow furrowing as she climbed onto the railing.  
  
"It will be fine, John," she said, smiling down at them. "I have the 'element of surprise' on my side, as you say."  
  
Ronon swore and took off running down the corridor, no doubt to follow Teyla's orders and reach ground floor to provide backup while she swung like Jane - without Tarzan - on a rope.  
  
"I don't think surprising your enemy justifies this insanity," Rodney pointed out.  
  
"Perhaps," Teyla said. "But simply going down there and attempting to fight our way through presents its own dangers. At least this way I will be moving quickly enough to defeat several guards before being forced to touch the ground." Rodney had an image of Teyla swinging about the courtyard, cutting through enemies as she swung by. It was absolutely insane, but perhaps its very craziness would help. Either way, Teyla had a look in her eyes that said she was doing this, and none of them were willing to stand between Teyla and something she really wanted to do.  
  
"I'm going to help," John said firmly.  
  
"But -"  
  
"You get the kid to safety," John commanded. "I'll make sure nobody follows the two of you out. Hide in the forest - Ronon can track you."  
  
"I don't like this plan," Rodney said unhappily, but grabbed the kid and pulled him along. John passed them, peering around corners and checking to makes sure the way was clear. Rodney pushed the kid in front, glancing back every now and then to make sure nobody was approaching from behind. When they reached the courtyard, Ronon was already fighting, the clang of metal on metal and the cries of men were all surprisingly loud. The kid - whose name Rodney still could not recall - flinched back against him, and Rodney surprised himself by wrapping one arm around the child.  
  
"Go!" John yelled, and shoved Rodney. With one last glance, Rodney tucked the boy against his side, closest to the castle wall they was following to freedom. With one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, they crept along, keeping an eye out for anyone who might notice them. Rodney's heart leapt into his throat when Teyla launched herself from so high up, sliding down the rope so she was closer to the ground. She  _ran_  along the wall, like something out of a movie, and pushed herself off. She swung wide, and as predicted, the guards she went by were too surprised to put up much of a fight as she cut them down.

Rodney turned his attention away, his mouth - which had dropped open with awe - snapping shut as he herded the kid. Amazingly, the plan was working - the guards were so busy focusing on Teyla, Ronon, and John that they completely missed Rodney and the boy slipping through the entrance.  
  
"Run!" Rodney urged, pushing the kid, who stumbled. He shot Rodney a resentful look and picked up the pace, Rodney following close behind, glancing behind to check on his friends. When they reached the treeline, the boy moved as though to hide behind the bushes.  
  
"We're not far enough in," Rodney said. "We have to go back further."  
  
"I do not like abandoning them," the boy protested.  
  
"Neither do I," Rodney snapped. "But as neither of us are particularly adept at sword fighting, we'll help them best by staying out of their way. Now  _move_ , kid."  
  
"My name is Tomas," the boy responded, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.  
  
"Wonderful," Rodney said, irritated. "I'm Rodney. Can we go now?"

* * *

  
  
Rodney didn't hear the rest of his team approach. One moment they were alone and the next Ronon was looming in front of him, grinning, covered in blood. Rodney yelped and jumped back, shakily raising his sword in a defensive position, pushing Tomas behind him quickly. When he realized it was not an enemy guard, he glared and lowered his sword, moving aside to allow his team into the shallow cave Rodney had found. The entrance was partially obscured by bushes; he was quite proud he'd found such a place on his own. To his surprise, Bob was with the others; apparently he had found them in the forest and took to following them much as he had before. Bob refused to let anyone other than Rodney touch him and he refused to show how pleased he was by this.  
  
He gave John a quick once over, noting the slashes in his clothes, the shallow looking wounds. John was covered in blood as well, though not nearly as much as Ronon, and didn't appear injured in any way. Still, seeing him wounded, clothes dark with sweat and blood, made Rodney fret. He marched over, pulling a vial out of his bag, and thrust it at John. He lifted his chin.  
  
"Drink it," he demanded. John blinked.  
  
"Ronon is more injured than I am!" John protested.  
  
"Ronon once pulled an arrow out of his leg and kept going," Rodney said, uncapping the vial and waving it under John's nose.  
  
"I don't punk out because of injuries," John said firmly, turning his head away from the vial.  
  
"John," Rodney said, quietly, and their eyes met. After a moment, John heaved a sigh - like taking a healing potion for his minor injuries was some big concession - and took the vial. Rodney turned away, pulling two more out for his other teammates. Teyla took hers with a smile and thanks. Ronon stared Rodney down, but well versed in how to get Ronon to do something he doesn't want to, Rodney simply handed the vial off to Teyla, who turned to Ronon and gave him a look. He took the vial.  
  
Off to the left, in front of the cave wall, the title card appeared. “Mission Three: Complete”, it said. The team glanced up to find they had leveled up again, the corresponding rush of energy and good health making them grin at each other.  
  
"Well!" Rodney said, clapping his hands together. "All we have to do now is deliver the kid safely to his father, and hello mini-ZPM!"  
  
"Hot showers," John murmured.  
  
"Mess hall food," Ronon said wistfully.  
  
"A soft place to sleep," Teyla added.  
  
"You people are funny," Tomas said.


End file.
